


Three Men and a Boy

by Emmagem803



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, Human AU, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory Negotiations, Probably some ooc ness going on, courting, dating fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmagem803/pseuds/Emmagem803
Summary: Three older men ask Stiles on ambiguous dates, Stiles just wants to go out and have fun again.Edited by laughingcat





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Udunie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/gifts).



> Happy Birthday my darling! You deserve only nice things. 
> 
> Because I am ready this will be coming in three parts. The second one will com out next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter checked his watch. If this traffic didn’t let up he was going to be late. He didn’t particularly mind being fashionably late for dinner, but he didn't want miss the end of Stiles' shift. 

He made it to the library at a quarter to six, with road rage to match a sleep deprived semi driver. After taking a few calming breaths, he gathered his arsenal and sauntered through the entrance. 

The library was a strange conglomeration of a period building and modern glass fronts. He remembered going to the fundraisers for the renovations a few years ago. There was basically a line between the two right down the center, leaving the fiction and nonfiction on the newer section, and the archives on the older side. Peter thought it was a bit too on the nose.

Peter walked into the small lobby. To his disappointment, his little clerk was not at his desk. Thinking he was too late, he sadly set his books in the return bin. Just as he was about to leave he heard a loud, clear voice. “The building closes in 15 minutes. Please log out of your computers and check out any books you want now.”

Peter peeked around the corner just as the boy walked away from the computer stations. Stiles had gone the professional route with his outfit today, though the collar was crooked and his sleeves were rolled up. He had been growing out his hair in a stylishly messy cut. When Peter had started coming in, Stiles had had an atrocious buzz cut. 

Stiles froze as he saw Peter looking him up and down, his eyes wide and doe like. “Oh, hi!” he said, circling around so he stood behind the desk. 

“Why are you surprised I’m here?” Peter asked, leaning on his elbows. 

Stiles shrugged. “Thought you weren’t coming.” He reached into the dropbox and started scanning the books. “You’re usually such a punctual person.”

Peter smiled. “I got caught in traffic.” 

“Oh.” He stayed silent for a moment, and Peter let himself watch Stiles' expressive face. He held up Peter 's last book. “You’ve never read _The Divine Comedy_ before?”

“I have,” Peter said. “But I have misplaced my copy and I had the urge. Do you like it?”

“I’ve read it,” Stiles said casually. “And, like, I get it. But I wouldn’t say I like it.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah. There’s a lot of inside jokes, and I’m not just talking about the old timey language and flowery stuff, like all the people he was angry at or friends with are in there. Every copy you get nowadays has citations and references and those are a requirement now.” He looked around sheepishly. “I know this is probably a sacrilegious opinion, but I think there’s good potential for a remake.” 

 

"What would you do with it?" Peter asked.

Stiles opened his mouth, his eyes shining with delight, until his eyes slipped over Peter's shoulder, and he saw the people leaving. "I, uh, it'll take a while and I need to close up shop."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah. My manager decided to call out, so I'm all alone. Not that it's a problem," he added hastily, "it's not like there's a lot of library to check or books to put away." Stiles cast his eyes around, like he was looking for a subject to latch onto. "But you still have, like, five minutes left if you want to grab something real quick."

Peter held up his hand. "I'll come back some other time," he said with a wink, "preferably when you are more available."

Stiles blinked. "Uh, why?"

It was Peter's turn to blink, taken aback. "So I can hear more of your intriguing idea," he said smoothly. "But maybe when you aren't working. So you don't have anybody to interrupt us." He offered a placating smile. "Maybe on a day you aren't working."

"Like go to a bookstore?" Stiles asked slowly.

"No sweetheart," Peter said, "Like a café, a quiet little place."

"Oh, there's a place like around the corner from the high school. I go there after my classes."

Horror sank down to the pit of his stomach. "I thought you had graduated?" He immediately recounted all if their previous interactions, making sure he'd never said anything that could get him arrested.

Stiles wrinkled his nose. "Oh, no! Community classes! Cheap college, I swear." He snapped his fingers like he remembered something. “I should give you my number and text you the address.” He brought out a sticky note and jotted it down. “This week is a little hectic because it’s midterms, but I’ll try to meet up with you this Sunday.” He held out the note, looking up at Peter … shyly? “How about that?” 

Peter offered him a wolfish smile. “That is absolutely perfect.” 

 

Chris sighed as he put the book back. He was just going to have to go into town and get the books he needed. The ones here were out of date by five years. He had expected them to be covered in dust and cobwebs, so the state of them was impressive to him. 

Chris stared at the bright yellow of the spines, planning in his head when he would stop by the bookstore in town. He had plenty of time and privacy. It wasn't like a lot of people are looking for self help books about divorce.

This wasn’t the lowest he’d sunk to, but it felt pretty darn close.

On second thought, he didn’t want to waste money on new books. He grabbed the books he’d been considering and headed to the front desk.

 

The librarian on duty -- Chris recognized him as the son of the Sheriff -- saw the books, saw the look on his face, and visibly decided to stay away from the subject. “Your card is a little outdated, Mr. A. I could switch it out for you if you want.”

“Does it change anything?” he asked.

Stiles shrugged. “It has a little cartoon superhero on it.”

Chris chuckled. “All right, go ahead.” Stiles gleefully dug around his drawer to find some. “I actually haven’t been in here since we first got here. I had to use the computers to track our U-Haul.”

“Where was it?”

“Texas.”

Stiles burst out laughing. “Man, that’s some 80s sitcom level stuff. You were heading here from, like, Utah or something, right?” 

“Correct,” he said, enjoying the memory. It had been awful at the time, Victoria had raised hell and they all had to sleep in the one bed they had brought themselves. But after it was over, it was a fun experience to recount. “We didn’t have to pay for it.”

“Nice.” Stiles handed him the new card and receipt for him to sign. “So are you going to be at the retirement party?”

“I was planning on it.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do on a Friday night. “You never seem to miss an event like that.”

“Ever since I found out that my dad is the one who chooses the menu. I feel obligated to go,” Stiles said. He raised his hand to scratch at the back of his head, lips splitting into a shit-eating grin. “I keep him from eating too much fried food, and I get to eat what’s left. Win win.” 

Chris found that endearing.

 

Alan clicked through the last of his emails, responding to the angry clients that had been waiting three days for updates on their pets. He had this system of updating his patients going for a week, with no end in sight. The IT company that was in charge of the repairs was being agonizingly silent. At this point, He would rather hire one of his patients to handle his computers.

The librarian announced that it was closing time, so he quickly finished up the last extremely necessary message, apologized to the people that were still waiting for information, and shut down the computer. He had been given a laminated log in information card, and he went up to the desk to return it. The librarian, a young, scrawny little thing, was busy scanning returned books, so he dropped it on the desk and was about to leave when the boy stopped him.

“Nope, sorry Dr. D, I gotta sign it, then you got to sign it.” Stiles turned around to face him, pulling out the appropriate clipboard. There must have been something in his expression that was concerning, because the librarian asked, “Are you okay? Were the computers not working for you?”

“No, Stiles, they’re fine,” he sighed. “I’m just having a difficult time is all.” 

Stiles leaned closer on the counter on his elbows, looking genuinely concerned. “Jean says you’ve been in here a lot lately.”

Alan raised an eyebrow. “Do you talk about everyone that comes through or just me?”

Stiles flailed. “No, no, no. I’m sorry! We didn’t mean anything by it.” He ducked his head. “I don’t need to know what you’re doing, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Alan said. “I was mostly kidding. Scott's probably told you my computer system is down and it’s looking like the problems are not going away anytime soon.”

Stiles frowned. “That really sucks.” 

Alan sighed again. “It’s even worse this week because there is a dog show happening next weekend and this one owner has brought her dog in three times over the past two weeks for every new thing the dog is doing. Yesterday she came in saying that the poor thing has Lyme disease because his knees were shaking.”

“Sounds like a hassle,” Stiles said. 

“She means well,” Alan relented, “and she’s very sweet. So I really shouldn’t complain about her.” 

They waited in silence as Stiles finished up writing. “Are you going?”

“What?”

“To the dog show,” Stiles explained.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Alan said honestly. He didn’t feel strongly about it either way. 

“Shame. I really like watching them on TV and I’ve never been to one in real life.” 

Alan looked Stiles over, not sure what he was implying. Was that a ‘please take me to the dog show,’ or was it just polite conversation? Stiles was probably seven or eight years younger than him, depending on whether Stiles was the same age as Scott. It wasn’t an unreasonable age gap and Stiles was pretty attractive. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. “I could take you if you wanted to go. Tickets would be fairly cheap for such a small show.”

Stiles’ eyes lit up with happiness. “Really? Even though you’re super busy?” 

Alan shook his head. “The competition is on a Sunday, when the clinic is closed.” 

Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet. “Thank you so much, Dr. D Oh!” The librarian scrambled around for a sticky note, scribbling something down and handing it to him. “My number, so we can coordinate.” 

Alan took the paper hesitantly. He studied Stiles' expression, looking for anything that would indicate that he was being asked out, but Stiles just smiled and returned to his work. 

It wasn’t until he was back at his house that he considered that he should have just asked.

 

Stiles got home after his last shift of the week, looking forward to just vegging on the couch for the remainder of the day. His roommate Scott was in the kitchen making something for himself (and one glance told him that he did not want a piece of that action). “Did you bring me anything?” Scott asked.

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks. “Noooooooo,” he moaned, thinking back to where he had left the compilation of Sherlock Holmes stories. “I forgot it in the back. It’s right where I left my coat.” He headed into the kitchen and threw himself at Scott just as he was putting his pasta down. “I’m sorry,” Stiles whined. “Forgive me, please.”

Scott pretended to consider it. “This is the third day in a row that you forgot it.”

“I knooooowwwwwwww.”

There was a pause. “All right, but tomorrow you’re making us both dinner.” 

Stiles perked up immediately. “Deal!” He returned to his plan of becoming one with the couch, scrolling through his phone to relax. “Oh, wait,” he said after a moment. “I can’t do tomorrow, it’ll have to be Monday.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

Stiles scrunched his nose at the incredulous tone. “I’m meeting up with a person to talk about books.”

Scott leaned around the corner to raise thick eyebrows at him. “To talk about books?”

Stiles held his ground. “Yeah.”

“This is the guy who keeps showing up towards the end of your shift, right?”

“Yup.”

“And where are you going to ‘talk about books?’” Scott asked, turning back to his cooking.

“The tea place down the street from the high school.”

“So you’re going to literally going to get coffee with this guy.”

“Noooooooo,” Stiles said. Scott was always quick to jump to conclusions about his social interactions. If it wasn’t with him, it was a date. “You’re making this into something way bigger than it needs to be. I just need someone else to geek out about books to, since everyone else went away to college.”

“Sorry buddy.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s fine. This may be blasphemy, but I just get bored with video games sometimes.”

Scott chuckled. “Okay, buddy. Good luck tomorrow then.”

Stiles sighed, sinking further into the cushions in resignation. He knew that he wasn't going to convince Scott, and it wasn't worth his time. “Thanks.”


	2. First date- Alan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peaks out from bottomless hole* I'm sorrrrrryyyyyyyy
> 
> Laughingcat looked upon this and made it 1000 better, also longer, so there is more to come.

Peter was surprised that he he actually received Stiles’s number. A week later, as he relaxed into his recliner, he was contemplating what to send first, when he finally settled for a simple _‘Hello, this is Peter from the library.’_ He put his phone aside and pulled out another book. 

He had situated himself in his favorite spot, the off-center chair in the living room. It faced away from the TV, but he was able to watch what was going on and even participate if he deemed the activities interesting enough. 

There were only three of his family there at the moment: his youngest niece and nephew, and Jordan, his sister’s husband. They were piled onto the L-shaped couch, absorbed in a tv movie Cora had found.

Peter’s phone chimed, showing that Stiles had responded. _‘Hiya!’_

_‘How did exams go?'_

_‘Super easy. Was able to study during my shifts.’_ Stiles replied, _‘We still on for tomorrow?’_

 _‘We are indeed,’_ Peter replied. _‘That is, if you’re still free.’_

 _‘Yup yup!’_ he said, _‘I’ll be out of town for most of the day, but I’ll be at the cafe around 6:30.’_

_‘The perfect time for coffee.’_

_‘Exactly! :D’_

“Are you texting Mom?” Cora asked suddenly. 

Peter set his phone beside him in the chair, kicking his feet up. “Your mother is right there, in her office. Why would I be texting her?”

“Why would you be texting anyone?” Cora shot back. “All your old people friends call you.” 

“Well, it’s not one of my old people friends, so that would make sense.” 

“Who else do you know?”

Peter scowled at her, and she stuck her tongue out in return. A moment later, Talia came into the room, standing behind the couch. “I heard my name.”

“You should take a real break from work then, instead of thinking of excuses to come out here,” Peter said.

“Uncle Peter is texting someone and he won’t tell us who it is.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose, seemingly just as surprised by this information as her daughter was. She turned her head towards her daughter, but Peter was sure she would corner him later. “Did you ask in a way that would compel anyone to share?”

“No,” Derek interjected. Cora kicked at him across the couch. 

Talia chuckled at the playful display, carding her fingers through her husband’s hair. “Well, there’s your problem.” She turned her attention to Jordan. “I need to finish these briefs up. Could one of you do dinner?”

“I’ll do it,” Peter volunteered. It would give him a good excuse to get out of the room and continue his conversation without being badgered.

“Thank you,” Talia said, bending down to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. She huffed, but didn’t turn away. Those interactions were happening more and more frequently, in direct correlation with Cora’s first year at university. “I’ll be done as soon as I can.”

“You know, the more you actually work on them, the quicker they’ll be done.” 

She flipped him the bird, out of her children’s line of sight. 

Later, while Peter was pulling chicken patties out of the oven, Talia walked up behind him. “It’s that young librarian, isn’t it?” Peter said nothing, which was proof enough. “How old are they?”

Peter looked over to the entrance to the living room. “I think Derek is older than he is,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Talia snorted. “I think we’ve reached the point where it’s creepy, Peter.” 

“I can’t help that he’s cute,” he defended weakly.

She rolled her eyes, heading over to the fridge to grab condiments. “Sorry, not trying to judge. I hope it works out. And hey, he has to be better than the last one.” 

Peter groaned. “That little parasite is lucky that it was Jordan who found the camera instead of you.”

~oOo~  
Stiles stared down at the clothes on his bed in disdain. How was he supposed to choose? Which was going to make him look more approachable? He had his Doge Obama shirt, which would obviously show that he liked dogs. But there was also the array of Grumpy Cat, which might get potentially snobby dog owners to ignore him. It would be funny, but ultimately against his goal. He grabbed the Doge Obama shirt, pulling over his head as he headed out of the room. Scott wasn’t up yet. If he didn’t have to, he could sleep all day. So that meant Stiles had the kitchen to himself. 

He ate quickly, but he underestimated his speed. When he looked at his phone, he still had 15 minutes until Dr. Deaton was supposed to pick him up. It left him lying down on the couch, literally twiddling his thumbs. He was afraid that if he fell back asleep he would miss the doctor’s call. So he sat up, pulling out his phone again and played a few games to pass the time. He tried to keep from thinking about what he was doing. He had known Dr. Deaton since late high school, ever since Scott starting helping clean up after hours. He hadn’t really seen him in a year, since he started community college, and when he had started coming into the library… there was just something different. His eyes were hypnotizing, his voice was soft and soothing, and he just wanted to curl up in that sound like a blanket. 

His phone rang. He hadn’t saved Dr. Deaton’s number, but he recognized it even before he picked up. “I’m outside,” Dr. Deaton said.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.” He hung up, and as he headed out the door, and with a detour to the fridge and grabbed a bottled Starbucks coffee, he headed out the door. 

Dr. Deaton was waiting in a midsized grey car that was idling in the parking lot. He smiled when Stiles slid in. “Good morning,” Stiles chirped. He handed the doctor the coffee. When Dr. Deaton gave it a confused look, he said, “Payment for the ride.” 

Surprise transformed the doctor’s face. “Ah.” Dr. Deaton set it in the cup holder gently. Stiles stares at the motion openly, until Dr. Deaton’s eyes shoot up to meet his, and he quickly looks away. “Thank you, Stiles.” He pulled out of the lot. “None for you?”

“Nah,” Stiles said. “Don’t like the taste.” He shifted in his seat so he could cross his legs. He kept coming up with, and dismissing topics as they flicked through his head. They were turning onto the highway when he decided to break the silence again. “So are you a cat person or a dog person?”

Dr. Deaton snorted. “I’m a vet, I don’t have a favorite.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. The mere-exposure effect proved otherwise, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. “Okay, which do you have in your house right now?”

Dr. Deaton smirked, and Stiles felt almost proud for getting an answer. “Two little calico cats. Their mama gave birth in my clinic and the owner had trouble finding homes for all of them, so I took the rest.”

“Awwwwww,” Stiles cooed. “Never had a pet, but they’re all so cute. I’ve had to get my furry fix elsewhere.” He stopped short, his heart stopping as he realized what he’s said. He banged his head against the headrest, utterly mortified. “That came out wrong. I am not sexually attracted to animals.”

“I didn’t think so,” Dr. Deaton said, chuckling. The doctor’s hands flexed on the wheel as he turned into another lane. His knuckles were darker than the rest of his skin, but they went almost white when his grip tightened. Stiles imagined them on his arm, moving up and under his shirt…

Stiles shook himself away from the thought. “But yeah, tell me about the kitties, please.” 

Dr. Deaton didn’t seem to notice the pause. He started telling small anecdotes, Stiles participating as necessary. He was surprised when he felt them slowly down and turning into the park. There was no way they were there already, but looking at the dashboard, he could see they were right on time. They pulled into the parking lot, where a good sized crowd was forming.

Stiles bent down to pick up the empty bottle as Dr. Deaton got out of the car. He straightened, reaching for the handle, only for Dr. Deaton to open it for him. 

Stiles blinked, staring at him. Dr. Deaton looked back at him with a steady gaze, waiting for him patiently. He carefully slid out of the car. “Thank you.” 

“Not a problem,” Dr. Deaton said. The events were taking place on a soccer field, with two small sets of bleachers and a ticket booth between them. As they walked across the park and over to the ticket stand, Stiles could already see a few dogs sitting on the podiums, and he just wanted to get over there now.

He reached into his pocket, but Dr. Deaton was ready ahead of him, handing the lady a twenty dollar bill. “I’ve got yours, Stiles.” 

Stiles couldn’t let that be. It was a whole ten dollars. “Come on, you don’t have to.” 

Dr. Deaton smiled. “It’s fine. It’s not that much to me,” the older man said, taking the tickets and handing one to him.

Stiles looked at it, uneasy. He had the feeling of being tricked, though if anyone was being taken advantage of, it was Dr. Deaton. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” His smile grew, showing off a bit of his brilliantly white teeth. 

Stiles gulped. “Okay. Thank you.” 

They waited in the bleachers until the announcer started the first round: the appearance category. As the judges were walking around, the spectators followed. Dr. Deaton trailed behind Stiles as he eagerly bounced between each dog there were about thirty all. If they showed the slightest interest in being petted, he obliged in a flash. He liked to think he didn’t have a preference, but if his hands were sinking into the fur, he had to suppress his urge to steal them. He makes sure that Dr. Deaton is still there. He has this look on his face like he’s watching his favorite movie. Maybe he really is a dog person. 

He was cooing over a nice little terrier when Dr. Deaton. tugged at his elbow. He pointed to a young woman standing next to her black lab. Stiles tried to contain himself, even from here, he could see this beautiful beast had the most adorable eyes. “That’s my patient. Let’s go say hi.”

“Yessssssss.”

The woman was talking to the judges and answering questions when they approached. Once they were gone, she turned to face them, looking surprised. “Dr. Deaton! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It was a last minute plan,” Dr. Deaton admitted. “This is Lauren. Lauren, this is Stiles. He is here to pet dogs.”

Lauren offered him a small smile. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” She scratched the dog behind his ears. “This big guy is Snowball.”

“Hello there.” Snowball nuzzled into his palm and Stiles practically melted. Overreaction, sure. But Snowball’s fur was so soft, and the dog was looking at him with big brown eyes and his tail was wagging a mile a minute and…

“Do you like labs?” Dr. Deaton asked, shocking him out of his mental rant.

“They are very pretty,” Stiles said, “but I think I like big dogs in general. I love the idea of curling up on a couch with them.”

“That is nice,” Dr. Deaton agreed. “I used to have a retriever and he would jump up on everything. The downside is when they sleep in the bed. No breathing room.”

Stiles laughed. “I’ve suffered worse fates.” 

Lauren moved between them, bringing his attention to her and away from Dr. Deaton. “Sorry, guys. I need to take him around before the obstacle course starts.”

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles said, raising his hands as he stepped back. He watched them go with longing eyes.

“Come on.” Dr. Deaton placed his hand on the small of Stiles’s back, making him stiffen, cheeks flushing. “Let’s head back to the stands.”

~oOo~  
Stiles thought about telling Dr. Deaton to just drop him off at the coffee shop as they were driving back, but decided he needed his notes and his own books for his meetup with Peter.

“This was really fun,” he said as they turned down his street. 

Dr. Deaton smiled, eyes flicking to him for a moment. “I also enjoyed myself, Stiles.” He paused; Stiles thought he looked nervous. “If another event like this comes up, would you like to go?”

Stiles felt a grin spread across his face without his input. “Yes!” he shouted. “Can I keep texting you?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“Great!” Dr. Deaton pulled into the parking lot. Stiles hesitated as he reached for the handle. He looked over his shoulder, seeing his shining eyes soft on him. “Thank you for taking me. I really had a fun day.” And he got to see that cute little smile one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can come yell at me for taking so long at gemstonewriter803.tumblr.com


	3. First Date- Peter

Stiles pulled into the cafe at half past six. When he walked in, he didn’t see Peter so he went to the counter to decide what he wanted. He liked this place because it was comfy. Instead of the modern look of sleek minimalism, this place was full of dark woods and plush cushions. Stiles would spend hours here doing homework and waiting between classes.

He found a corner table to settle into, and was just settling his bag down when Peter came in. Peter was in a blazer and slacks with a black shirt under it. He looked like he belonged in a Bond movie, and definitely not sitting with Stiles. He surveyed the room in the way that always got Stiles hot under the collar. Peter had this sweeping gaze, like he saw everything and found it all lacking. Except, it seemed, Stiles, because as soon as he caught sight him, Peter only looked away to see where he was going.

“Hello, Stiles,” he said as he slid into the opposite chair. 

“H-hi,” he stuttered. Peter’s facial hair was growing out, just on the tip of his chin. Was this a new style, or did he not shave on the weekends? Would that be enough for beard burn? Stiles distracted himself from that line of thought by taking a big swig of his drink. “Hi.”

“What is that?” 

Stiles shook the contents. “Oh, it’s basically a chocolate milkshake with a little bit of caffeine.”

“Sweet tooth?” he asked.

“It’s more like a bone,” Stiles admitted, scratching the back of his head. “And not like a small bone either, probably my femur.”

Peter chuckled, his voice going low. “You certainly metabolize it well.”

Well that was kind of a weird way of say that. “Yeah, I just, you know, manage my intake,” he said. “My income isn’t large enough to allow for big spending at the moment.”

Peter frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Nah,” Stiles said, waving it away. He realized too late that he was getting was way too personal. “Forget about it. I’m fine. I have an awesome roommate and we make it work.” He leaned over to fidget with the handle of his bag. Peter’s gaze followed his movements. 

“Are those your novel notes?” he asked. Stiles nodded enthusiastically, and Peter waved him on. He pulled out his copy of Divine Comedy along with his notes, an actual spiral notebook.

Peter’s look of mild into one of interest turned into shock. “To be honest I didn’t know if you were being serious or not.”

Stiles’s face instantly heated up, the comment stabbing into his gut. “Yeah, nope, yeah… I was, uh, this is just…” he didn’t know how to finish that dumpster fire of a sentence, so he frantically grabbed at the notebook to put it back in his bag.

A hand reached out and wrapped around his wrist, making him give an undignified squeak. He stared at Peter as the lawyer’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t put it away. I came here to hear what’s in that brain of yours, and I will be very disappointed if you held back.”

Stiles blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. Peter’s hands were surprisingly calloused. “Oh, no,” he said finally. “You don’t want that.”

Peter’s gaze never wavered. “I guarantee I do.”

Stiles still didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to call Peter a liar to his face, so he put his stuff back in the table. Frazzled, he played with the edges of the pages. He had planned this, kind of, but he couldn’t find in himself to start again. Instead of speaking, he just drank his coffee.

Peter saw his hesitation. The older man sighed and reached into his blazer, pulling a very ragged, dog eared book. “When I first read this in high school, I hated it.” He paused as a laugh exploded out of Stiles, because that was not what he was expecting.

“I had to read it three more times in college. It grew on me like a flesh eating fungus. It can take a long time to see the work through the different lenses he was writing through.”

“You sound like my professor,” Stiles said.

“Probably my classics degree showing.”

Stiles’s jaw dropped. “What?” he gasped. “I thought you were a big fancy lawyer!”

“I am a big fancy lawyer,” Peter confirmed. “With a classics degree.” His mouth twisted up into a smirk. “College was all about exploring what I wanted to do. If someone had told high school me what I would choose as a career, he was would have punched them in the face.” Stiles laughed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a coffee.” 

Stiles watched him as he went. Peter looked like he always knew what he wanted. Even now, he only looked at the menu for a few seconds before ordering. It was hard to imagine him as an unsure teenager.He seemed so far away from any mind et Stiles was in. When he made his way back, he had an iced tea and a chocolate cookie, he continued the conversation. “I haven’t changed what I want to be since I was eight.”

“Which is?”

“Law enforcement!” he chirped. “The level of which fluctuates depending on my confidence level.” He pushed his notebook forward. “I had to read this for a required lit class. And while I was reading, I rewrote half of it.”

Peter rested his chin on his hands and Stiles launched into his spiel. He started slowly, with the outrageous satire and updating it, to the boring and sleep inducing descriptions, the disconnection with the modern media. Every time Peter responded, he got a little more confident, a little more exuberant. Peter was smart, in a sexy kind of way. He knew a lot about historical context and every time he said something insightful, Stiles’s excitement doubled.

He was jolted out of his conversation when a girl sweeping entered his periphery. “Are they about to close?” He pulled out his phone: 10:00 stared back up at him. “Holy shit, when did it get that late?!”

Peter looked around, seemingly just as surprised. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Stiles said, “I just have an early shift tomorrow, so I’m gonna have to go.”

“Of course.” Peter stood and walked over to the counter. Stiles busied himself with packing up. Peter came back and placed a clear plastic box down in front of him, containing a giant chocolate muffin. “For tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Stiles felt his face brighten. It looked delicious. “Thank you!” He placed his bag over his shoulder and grabbed the box from Peter, whose hands lingered. Stiles didn’t read too much into that. He was probably was clinging, and Peter was actually just being nice. When they walked out of the cafe, Peter held the door open for him.

“Thanks again,” Stiles said. “So obviously I had a really fun time. Thank you for letting me rant.”

“It was a genuine pleasure.” They turned to face each other as they got to his jeep. “You’re truly detail oriented and very thorough. I would love to do this again. How about the same time next week?”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked before he could stop himself. _Stupid, don’t let the hot guy second guess hanging out with you!_

“If you would rather not, it’s perfectly fine,” Peter said, though he actually looked disappointed.

“No, no, no,” Stiles said. “Let’s do it. I haven’t been able to talk this way about books for a while now.” He turned to his car. “Guess I’ll see you soon then.”

“See you soon.”  
~oOo~  
Chris felt completely pathetic as he drove to this retirement party, a mood he was becoming increasingly accustomed to. He was only going because he was reasonably sure that police officers would give a flying fuck about his divorce. He was confident in his ability skirt around questions for a few hours. Allison had decided to come, probably for the same reason he had, though she said it was because her friend Stiles would be there. 

It was lively, as far as police events went. Chris didn’t know the man very well, but he appeared to be well liked among his peers. Allison left him for the food early on and stayed there because Stiles was parked at a table nearby. They gabbed away like old ladies. He coasted between groups, even talking to the Sheriff for a bit. He found he wasn’t having an awful time, and even stopped checking the time for a while. 

Later, when he wandered over to the snack table himself, they were still chatting away. He locked eyes with Stiles. He waved and intended to turn away, but Stiles waved him over. 

“Hello Mr. A!” he said. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” he answered, “You?”

“The food’s alright,” he said, like that encompassed the entirety of the situation. He pulled at the end of the tablecloth absentmindedly. “Me and Allison have been talking, and I… might need to ask a favor of you. If you don’t mind, that is.” 

“Well, I can’t make a decision before I know what you’re going to ask,” Chris said.

“Right.” Stiles looked away, a blush dusting his cheeks. Chris didn’t think he had said anything to warrant that response. 

When it seemed like Stiles was lost in his own thoughts, Allison prompted, “Are you going to ask, Stiles?”

Stiles jumped a little, like he had forgotten they were there. “Yes!” he said, collecting himself. He looked up at Chris with those nice doe eyes. “So, uh, I’ve been going to the gun range to get better at my aim, but um… progress is slow going, and I’m not getting better on my own.

“So I was wondering, if you’re free this weekend, maybe you could help me?” he asked hopefully. 

“Uh huh,” Chris said, already skeptical. Stiles’s dad was a cop, if he needed help, he could easily get it from anyone in the department. How could he possibly be having problems? He saw the way that Stiles was fidgeting, and he couldn’t figure out if that meant the kid was nervous or ashamed. 

Maybe he was just being paranoid. “Sure,” he said. “I can take you out for an hour or two.”

Stiles brightened instantly. “Really? Awesome!” he pulled out his phone and swiped around for a moment. “Okay yeah. I’m free Saturday. If that’s okay with you?”

“I’m available,” Chris confirmed. “How about we meet there around 9, when it opens.” Chris honestly didn’t care for morning activities anymore than the average person, but he wanted to see Stiles’s response. 

Stiles looked a little stricken by the early time, but quickly recovered. “That sounds great,” he offered up a thousand watt smile. “Thanks Mr. A. I really appreciate this.”

Chris nodded at the acknowledgment. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. He turned to leave and head back into the fray. He could still see them out of the corner of his eye, and as soon he was a good distance away, he saw Stiles collapse against the table, liked balloon that just been deflated.

Strange kid.

Later, when he and Allison were halfway home, she said, “You know, I’m really glad you said yes to Stiles. He was probably super nervous to ask you out.”

“Not an uncommon reaction,” Chris responded.

Allison hummed in agreement. “But this time I think it’s because he thinks you’re super hot.”

“Excuse me,” Chris sputtered.

Allison giggled. “Yeah, Dad. He always acts like that when you’re around. Have you never noticed?”

Chris shrugged, still in shock. “I just thought that was his normal behavior.”

“Yeah, well, don’t break him Saturday,” she said. “Poor boy might combust.” 

Chris thought Stiles wouldn’t be the only one.


	4. first date-Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I forgot to post this last week. I am sorry.

Stiles pulled into the parking lot at a reasonable time, purposefully three minutes late just to make a fucking point. It was way too early for this. Whenever he went to the gun range it was mid afternoon, at the earliest. Mr. A was standing out by his car, staring off into the distance. It was easy to find him, because again, no one was out and about at 9 in the morning on a Saturday. The only other car in the lot was the owner’s.

He took a deep, calming breath before leaving his Jeep. He knew that Mr. A was doing him a favor and there was absolutely no reason to be surly about it. When Mr. A turned to face him, he smiled pleasantly. “Good morning, Mr. A.”

Mr. A chuckled. “Stiles, you’re an adult now. You can call me Chris.”

“Oh, cool, first name status,” he said as Chris opened his trunk. He took out a slim black briefcase. Stiles was half expecting it to be handcuffed to his wrist. “What’ve you got in there?”

“I brought the model I sold to the station,” Chris explained. “Nothing fancy, but I thought we might as well save some money.”

“Yes!” Stiles said, pumping his fist in the air. He could use the extra money to buy some burgers later.

They talked to the guy behind the counter, Chris taking the lead, and Stiles was completely fine with him doing so. The guys that frequented this place had little respect for him. Someone had probably heard that he had been arrested before, and thought he was a delinquent. Despite that, he knew instantly that this guy respected Chris, and Stiles felt a lot of… emotions about that. It was actually kind of fun to watch Chris be all confident and act he owned the room in a passive aggressive kind of way and the way his head tilted to the side like he was watching everything… They were given earmuffs and some silhouette targets and they went on their way.

 

“All right,” Chris said from behind him as they set up. “Your stance is good, but your hands are shaking. Loosen your grip.” Stiles did as he was instructed.

A hand squeezed at his shoulder, not hard, but he had a feeling it would take some effort to dislodge. It was cold, but Stiles liked the pressure. “Like this. We don’t want it to fly out of your hands.”  
Stiles gulped, trying to find his breath again and adjusted his grip. “Good?”

Chris hummed in agreement. “Try it.”

Stiles fired, this time it actually hit the target, just not where he wanted it to go. “Well that’s an improvement,” he said, relaxing. “It usually takes me a few tries to get that far.”

“Get in your stance again,” Chris ordered. Once Stiles obeyed, Chris reached around and moved his arm to correct him. Stiles flinched, surprised, and Chris instantly backed off. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Stiles said, turning to face him. “It’s fine. I just didn’t expect you to do that.”

Chris nodded. “Well how about we both try to keep the jumpiness to a minimum.”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said, laughing nervously. “Guns.”

Chris continued to put him through the paces as Stiles waged a mental battle with himself. _You need to knock this pining shit off. This is literally your best friend’s girlfriend’s father._

Your best friend’s girlfriend’s hot recently divorced father.

“Eyes up, make sure your shoulder is in the same place,” Chris said.

How in any way does that make it better? he chastised himself. He fired off two rounds in succession. Only one hit the shoulder.

He reloaded as he felt Chris step closer to him. “You aren’t focusing,” Chris said. It sounded like Chris’ mouth was right next to his ear, though Stiles didn’t dare turn around. Strong hands were on his hips, centering them. “You need to take a dedicated moment to think before firing; take that extra second to make sure you’re ready.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh, boy,” Stiles said, his cheeks instantly going red. Small shocks traveled through his body radiating from his hips. “Ah, you’re gonna need to let go if you want me to focus.”

The hands departed, although they did linger. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Stiles said. He wanted to turn around, to see Chris’ face, to figure out what the hell that meant, but the logical part of his brain slapped him. _It’s just a teaching strategy. Get over yourself. You’ve been doing this to every hot older guy you’ve been with for the past week. You just need to get laid so you can stop fantasizing about guys you don’t have a shot with._

He raised his arms again, Chris standing close, but not touching him. “Breathe,” Chris reminded. “And focus.”

_Focus on the target, not on his voice._

He fired. One on the shoulder and one near the heart. Stiles couldn’t contain his excitement, jumping in the air.

“Better.”

 

  
Alan sat in his office, finishing up paperwork from the previous day. Scott was cleaning up the room next door, the sound so familiar it was registered pleasant background noise. He had been so happy when Scott had gotten his vet tech certificate and he was able to delegate more responsibilities. Being such a small clinic, he could only afford one assistant, and he was glad he could keep Scott over the years. 

He stepped away from his computer and walked into the kennel. Scott was putting a cat back into its cage, scratching its ears to distract it. “Done?” Scott asked as he closed the cage door.

Alan nodded. “Anything to worry about?”

Scott put his hand on a cage in the middle. Alan looked inside to see a terrier huddled up in the back corner. “This little guy was really nervous when I was walking him. We’ll probably have a mess to clean up when we come in.”

Alan sighed. “Nothing we can do about it now. I’m heading out for the evening.” 

Scott followed him out the door, standing behind him aws he locked up, instead of heading over to his car like he usually did. “So, if you want, you should totally keep texting Stiles.” 

Alan froze. “Excuse me?” he asked, turning around.

Scott didn’t seem threatened by his tone. He was casually looking at his phone, typing away. “Stiles has been driving himself in circles, wondering if he should text you because he has a massive crush on you and he doesn’t want to impose.”

The air stuck in Alan’s lungs for a moment, his whole body temporarily stunned. He had the strange sense of slipping into a parallel dimension, where everything was just slightly off. “That… doesn’t make sense. What are we talking about?”

Scott looked up. He didn’t know what emotions his face was betraying, but whatever it was made Scott slowed down a little. “Stiles doesn’t know what to do when he’s attracted to someone. And he’s oblivious when he sets his mind to it,” he said. “If that doesn’t bother you, you should probably let him know what your intentions are. Whatever those may be.” When Alan didn’t reply right away, he simply turned and walked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Dr. Deaton.” 

Which left Alan alone with his thoughts.

 

Stiles was enjoying being alone in the apartment, washing dishes and listening to podcasts without headphones, when his phone chimed for a personalized email alert. He shook his hands dry and grabbed at it. Date night, buy one get one free the subject said. It was a ‘newsletter’ from The Jungle he’d signed up for. While he was reading it, a text popped up from Dr. Deaton. His eyebrows shot up when he opened it. There were no words, just a small video. It was two cats rolling around on a beige couch, one of them overextended its limbs and tumbled to the floor. The poor little guy looked so bewildered for a second, then shot up and ran out of the room, the camera following him.

Stiles giggled at the scene. He typed out a quick _LOL._ he was about to put it back down, but then added: _you know there is an app for that right?_ There was no immediate answer, so he went back to his dishes. 

He was almost done when he heard the door unlock. A few minutes later, Scott was bustling around the kitchen. Stiles registered it, which is when Scott said,“Dude,” right beside him, Stiles flailed, his heart leaping out of his chest. “How’s Dr. Deaton?”

“Jesus, Scott,” Stiles panted. “How the fuck did you know I was texting him?”

“Because I told him he should.”

“You did WHAT?!” Stiles shrieked. 

“Yeah, you were going crazy wondering what you should do. He was obviously doing the same-”

“How do you ‘obviously’ with that guy?”

“- So I was just like ‘If you want to, you totally should,’” Scott said, looking so proud of himself. “You’re welcome.” 

“Uggggghhhhhh.” Stiles gripped the edge of the sink, wondering if he could spray Scott down with the water before Scott escaped. He dismissed the idea and instead started to pace the room. “Why would you do that to him? It’s not like he knows. You made him do that just to tease me!” He flopped onto the couch. “I’m surrounded by beautiful opportunities, but I’m too much of a coward to take them!”

Scott followed him into the living room. “Stiles,” he groaned as he settled into the opposite chair. “I’m going to ask questions and I just want you to answer honestly.”

Stiles scowled at him. “Come on, man.”

“Just go with it,” he insisted. “So these three guys…”

“One of which is your girlfriend’s father, by the way, so be fucking careful.”

“... Have any of them give you gifts?”

Stiles didn’t need to think long on that. “Well, I gave Dr. Deaton a coffee, and he paid for my ticket when we went to the show, Peter gives me cafe food,” he paused for a moment, “I guess Chris pays for the stuff at the range, but that’s not really romantic.”

Scott ignored that and continued. “Do they laugh at your bad jokes?”

“Rude,” Stiles said. “I’m actually too nervous to tell jokes. Hot men throw me off my game.”

“Did they laugh anyway?”

Stiles thought about Dr. Deaton’s small, sweet smile, and Peter’s contained chuckles. “I mean, I guess. But, you know, I’m a funny guy.”

“Sure,” Scott agreed. “Do they specifically ask you to meet up again?”

“...yes,” Stiles conceded. Even Dr. Deaton, whose invitation didn’t make sense on paper. “But they were just being nice.”

“Ugggghhhh, Stiles,” Scott said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Fine, never mind. You’re going to die alone.” he slumped back in his seat.

“Thank you,” Stiles snapped, rolling to face the back of the couch. He pulled up a mindless phone game to take his mind off it, but not before reading Dr. Deaton’s response: _I know about snapchat and instagram, however, I am shit with communicating online._ It made him chuckle. He didn’t know why Scott was so desperate to cast him as an up and coming stud. Maybe Scott felt bad for leaving him alone while spending so much time with his girlfriend, but he wasn’t a puppy waiting for his owner to come home. And he understood, They went to different colleges, they hadn’t seen each other nearly enough. 

He thought about the three men he had interacted with, trying to find a common thread. The only one he could find was that they were all way older than him, something he wasn’t going to begin to touch. Sure, they all acted similarly, but that was because it all boiled down to the same interaction: Three men humoring the requests of an overactive boy. 

He received another text from Dr. Deaton. _There are free drinks at a bar tomorrow. Would you be interested in going?_

He blinked at the message dumbly. Before he could recover, he got another text from Peter. _Free drinks at The Jungle, would you like to join me?_

Stiles sat up, staring at his phone like it had just caught fire. “Scott,” he said numbly, “I think I have three dates.”


	5. A decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was expecting an update today? Not I!

Stiles questioned all the observations that had ever crossed his mind as he stared down at his phone. Peter and Dr. Deaton were inviting him to a _Date Night._ That meant they thought they were dating. That meant _Chris_ probably thought that too! He thought about what he’d done, the way he’d acted. Oh god, they must have thought he was a idiot. He wore meme shirts, he had sent videos of singing cats to them. How is that in any way conducive to how you behave on a date? He was starting to hyperventilate, and all the while, Scott was turned away but he could _see him laughing damn it._

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Stiles snapped.

Scott turned back around, at least trying to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “But I told you so. And I will lord this over you forever.”

“You are the worst,” Stiles groaned. “What is even the point of you if you aren’t going to be useful?”

“There’s no need to be like that,” Scott admonished. “So you’ve got three dates, that’s perfectly fine. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that there are three men -- _three older_ men -- that have been going out with me. I have to tell them, right? I can’t keep going out on dates with three guys.”

Scott thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “So, what? You going to choose one?”

Stiles blinked dumbly. “I guess?” To be honest, the idea was… not pleasant. He was having fun with all of them. He got to be expressive with Dr. Deaton, smart with Peter, and… talkative with Chris. He felt comfortable and happy with all of them, wasn’t that how you were supposed to feel when you’re dating people?

“So, who are you gonna choose?”

Stiles stared at his phone again, like it would ping with a message alert that would solve this problem. When no such Deus ex machina appeared, he simply said. “I have no idea.”

~oOo~

Alan was enjoying being able to complete his work from the comfort of his office, instead of the old imprinted felt of the library chairs. The internet was finally repaired. Scott said it was much faster than before, but he couldn’t really tell. How fast did emails need to be sent out anyway? The internet’s capabilities progressed too fast for him to catch up. On the rare occasion that he needed more advanced features, he had Scott to help him anyway. 

His phone chimed. Stiles had sent him a picture of a bluejay, the lighting making its blue feathers stand out, highlighted by the bushes in the shade. This started a whole conversation on cameras, lenses, and the way increasing ease of photography was changing media, mostly Alan checked his phone every now and again, seeing a long string of texts and responding with enthusiasm. 

At the end of the day as he was heading for his car, he saw Scott walking ahead of him. Instead of heading to his bike, he turned to a faded blue jeep with Stiles leaning against the side. Scott got in and Stiles started towards him, moving fluidly in a way that looked practiced. 

“Hi,” Stiles said when he got close enough. His cheeks were red, and he sounded out of breath. Had he been exercising?

“Hello, Stiles,” Alan returned. 

Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “So, uh,” he started. Alan tried to catch his eye, but Stiles seemed to avoid his face with a surprising determination. “I wanted to apologize for turning down your... offer the other day.” 

“Oh,” Alan said, stunned. He wanted to say it was no big deal, but he found his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you, I understand though.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, I want to make it up to you,” Stiles said. “Like maybe take you to dinner or something.” 

“You don’t have to…” Alan said, trailing off as Stiles stepped closer, hand coming up to his shoulder. 

“I want to, though,” Stiles said, looking up through his lashes. 

Alan swallowed. “Al- all right.” They stayed like that for several moments longer than natural. Alan debated on whether Stiles was gaining the courage to lean in, or if he was expected to make the next move. 

Stiles licked his lips slowly. Alan’s eyes followed the movement before realizing Stiles was doing it on purpose and watching him. He saw when Stiles leaned forward, head tilting to the side his eyes fluttering closed. 

The kiss was soft, chaste, and brief, it made electricity crackle through Alan’s body. 

When Stiles pulled back, his face was tomato red, but he looked relaxed... sated? “Okay well then, uh, see you later!” Stiles backpedaled and scrambled to his car. Once Alan recovered, he made his own way to his car. He could see both Scott and Stiles , still in the jeep. Stiles leaning over the steering wheel and Scott laughing. 

He sat down in his driver seat and pulled out his phone. _‘Was that a test of some sort?’_

He didn’t get an answer until he was pulling into his driveway. _‘Yes.’_ and then, _‘If it helps at all you passed.’_

Alan chuckled. _‘Glad to hear it.’_

~oOo~

Peter was nervous as he stepped into the library again. Stiles was sitting at the front desk, reading something on the computer. When Stiles looked up to see who had entered, the younger man immediately flushed violently, flinching away. Wide eyes peered at him for one -- two -- three heartbeats before the librarian's expression forced itself into one that appeared only nervous, not terrified. Peter didn't know what to make of it. Thinking back to last Sunday, he didn't think the night could have gone more smoothly. The only thing he could think of was last night's invitation. Could he have been wrong again about Stiles’ age?

"Good evening, Stiles," he said, hoping that casual would cause the Librarian the least distress.

"H-h-hi Peter," Stiles stuttered out. He offered a half smile, but it didn't reassure him. Peter was sure that whatever was bothering the boy, it had something to do with him. 

"Stiles," he said, making his voice as soft as possible. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Stiles said hastily. He clambered to grab Peter's returns and check them in, looking around like he was expecting to get attacked. They stayed like that in awkward silence. 

Peter ground his teeth. He didn't like not knowing things, especially when the information was this disastrous apparently. Should he chalk this up to overexaggeration? The boy did seem to get hung up on the strangest things, but this looked serious. Stiles wouldn't even meet his eyes. 

He decided to leave Stiles to his own job while he looked for new books. He stepped into the nonfiction section looking at the new acquisitions. Peter was turning into the second aisle when he spotted him. Chris. Chris was leaning against the shelves by his forearm, resting his head as he stared down at a book. Peter tried to turn away, but Chris looked up almost immediately.

Chris looked like a deer caught in the headlight, something he was probably very familiar with. "Peter," he breathed.

Peter took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and trying to look as menacing as possible. "Christopher." He decided to commit, walking past him. "Congratulations on the divorce." 

Chris winced. Peter had heard about it from a work friend, and he had not been surprised. A lot of what kept Chris bound to his wife had been fear of his father's disappointment, first in the form of his anger, and then the progression of his cancer. It had taken a little more than six months to run its course.

But ever since he had heard the news, he had become nostalgic for high school days. For dark classrooms and stolen kisses. For parked cars and unnecessary condoms.

Maybe that was why he was dating Stiles. He should probably reflect on that.

Chris grabbed at his wrist, and Peter wrenched away from him. "Peter, please, I-" Peter turned the full force of his glare on Chris, which gave him pause. 

"What?" Peter snapped. "I am happy about the news. I'm happy that you're miserable." 

Chris sighed, looking defeated. "I know. And you're right." 

Peter blinked. He had prepared an entire monologue about how he had a right to be bitter and angry, and how Chris had no right to ask anything of him. His shocked pause gave Chris the opening he needed. 

"I -- You have every right to be angry. What I did to you was awful. I shouldn't have strung you along, I shouldn't have been a fucking coward and gotten married. I shouldn't have given you up like that. I just.... shouldn't have done it. I didn't deserve you. I don't deserve you now. I loved you and threw you out."

Peter had fantasized about hearing those words, ranging from raunchy to revenge, but right now he felt his eyes stinging with impending tears. And that was unacceptable. "If this is just some stupid fucking spiel to get me to not hate you, or, or to get in my pants because you're pathetically lonely-"

"No," Chris said, shaking his head. "No, I'm just, trying to clear the air, I guess?"

Peter leaned back. "And do you feel any better?"

"No." 

"Surprisingly, me neither." Peter pursed his lips. "Whelp," he popped, "It was fun catching up. I have someone waiting for me, and I would hate to be late to the bi-weekly sinners meeting at the Lookout. Say hi to your daughter for me." he turned and walked away before Chris could say any more. 

"Nothing today?" Stiles asked as he passed the front desk. 

"Nothing caught my eye," he said, taking a moment to compose himself. He still looked uneasy, and engaging in conversation with him was probably a bad idea. He gave Stiles a half smile to reassure him. "Why don't you give me one of your favorites this Sunday?"

Stiles surveyed the area, and appeared to deem the surroundings appropriate. He stepped out from behind his work station, gesturing for Peter to follow him into a little secluded corner. Stiles still looked nervous, his left hand drumming against his thigh. "Something happen?" he asked.

Peter sighed. "Just old wounds that never fully healed," he said. Now that he was away from Chirs, his blinding anger had dissipated. He probably should be disappointed in himself for behaving like a child, but the feeling didn't come. There was a tangled web of emotions swirling around in him. He would figure it out later, but for now he was focused on making sure that Stiles knew he was fine. "Ran into an old flame. He wanted something from me I wasn't willing to give."

"Which was?"

"Forgiveness."

Stiles’ cute nose scrunched up in disgust. "Wow." 

"Indeed," Peter said. He took Stiles’ hand and brought it to his lips. "I might tell you about it one day, but for now I must be going."

Stiles flipped his hand and cupped the back of his neck, pulling Peter down for a kiss. Stiles tried to keep it soft and comforting, but after the initial shock wore off, Peter pushed back, bringing in tongue and just a little bit of teeth. He tilted Stiles’ head until it was just the right angle, so they could be as close as possible without smashing their noses together. Stiles took it with enthusiasm. 

When they pulled apart, Stiles gave him a wide grin. “Wowwwwwwww.” 

Peter chuckled. “How long have you waited to do that?” 

“Forever,” Stiles drawled, peeling himself away from the wall. 

“I’ve been neglecting you then,” Peter said. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Stiles looked around. “I, uh, I got to get back. But this, I like this. See you Sunday?”

“Of course, darling.”

~oOo~

Chris suspected that something was going on with Stiles. While Stiles had been making steady progress over the last few weeks, he was jumpy. At times he seemed fine, but then he would frown and pull away from Chris at the flip of a switch. On top of that, his aim was all over the place. Chris couldn’t let this stand.

“Your aim needs to be perfect, even when you’re upset,” he said as they were packing up. Stiles was stuffing his bag with quick jerky motions. 

Stiles groaned. “I know,” he grumbled, then sighed. “Sorry, I’m being a jerk. I’m just frustrated.” 

“About this?” he asked, gesturing around them. Stiles shrugged, not looking up from his bag. Chris sighed, running a hand over his head. “You’re getting a lot better, you just need to work on muscle memory.”

Stiles shook his head. “No that’s not it.” he said. He stood up straight, finally looking at Chris. His eyes were shining, the light reflecting off of them made them golden. “I have been trying to figure something out, and I thought I had a solution, but it hasn’t been working.”

Chris nodded like he understood. It was clear that Stiles didn’t want to talk about it, so he wouldn’t ask for details. “So how are you gonna solve the problem?”

Stiles threw himself at Chris, smashing their lips together. Chris grabbed his waist on instinct, then pulled him closer. Stiles was frantic, fingers grabbing at his shirt and releasing to let his hands wander. Chris turned them around, pressing Stiles against the wall. He slowed the pace down, opening his mouth and softly prodding with his tongue. Stiles accepted readily. Chris’ hand crept up to tangle in his hair, and Stiles immediately relaxed, letting him do most of the work.

When they pulled apart, Stiles’ eyes were glazed over, like honey. His breath was heavy and quick, almost pressing against his collarbone. He was beautiful.

Stiles slowly gathered himself again, blinking rapidly. When he appeared to get his bearings he groaned. “That didn’t help!” Chris’ stomach tightened, but then Stiles smiled dreamily for a moment. “Why couldn’t you be rough?”

Chris snorted. “Not my style.”

“Ughhhhhh,” Stiles said, but leaned forward to kiss him again.

~oOo~

Stiles waited in the coffee shop, practically twisting around in his seat. He kept switching between blinding determination, hiding in the bathroom, and running out of the café. He wished he had brought Scott to stay with him for moral support. Better yet, he wanted to have Alan there to hold his hand, but that wasn’t going to happen. That just made what he was about to do all the more real, and he felt his eyes sting.

But he had to stay strong and he couldn’t keep doing this. He made sure that this would be as short as possible. He would give his speech -- he had been rehearsing all day, hating his reflection every time he said the words -- and respond appropriately to whatever reaction they had, and then leave until he saw _them_ leaving, and then start the process over. Fifteen minutes each. The idea was nauseating, but he’d throw up every time if he had to.

He saw Peter walk in through the door. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. This was it. Peter met his gaze and smiled, walking over and sliding into the booth across from him. He frowned after a moment, and Stiles had no doubt it was because he was wearing his emotions on his sleeve. “Hello, Stiles.”

“H-h-hi,” Stiles said.

When he didn’t say anything, Peter filled the silence. “Something on your mind?”

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. “Yeah.” He stared down at the grooves of the table. “I have to do something that I really don’t want to and I’m really sorry, because I really like you and you’ve been so nice to me, but I can’t keep hurting you like this-” He cut off when he heard the café door open again. He had no reason to look up, but he was glad he had. Alan was heading inside, and he was holding the door open for someone….

It was Chris. 

Peter noticed he was staring, and followed his gaze. Then Everybody was looking at each other and the others were walking to the table and this, right here, was Stiles’ nightmare come to life.

“Hello, Stiles,” Alan greeted. Stiles could tell he was trying to figure out what was going on. 

Chris seemed to pick up immediately. “Looks like you overbooked yourself.”

Stiles saw Peter’s eyes narrow. He was starting to sweat bullets. What was he supposed to do now?

“Well it seems you’ll have him all to yourselves, at it appears was just giving me the breakup speech,” Peter snapped before he started sliding out of the booth, his face tight and angry.

Stiles couldn’t just leave it like that. He wanted to make things right, not make them hate him. “Ilikeallofyou!” he blurted, so loud that it made all of them freeze, staring at him. He looked at each of them in turn, and tried to calm down. “I… I didn’t know that any of you were interested in me -- even with you, Peter, I was being completely and utterly obvious. I’m just a complete idiot -- and I started dating all of you right around the same time. I tried to, like, pick one of you I liked more. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’m sorry. So all of you, I’m just, gonna break up with all of you. Yeah.” 

He made the mistake of looking up, he could see other people staring at them, staring at him. That was it. He was done. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked. He flung himself out of the booth and pushed his way past Alan and Chris and through the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right folks this is it! The final chapter. Thank you so much for sticking around for this long! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always, Laughing Cat made this a million times better.

Peter stared at the closed door, the bewilderment he felt eclipsing all else. The entire situation was so bizarre that it didn’t truly feel like it was real. Although muted, the sting of rejection was muted, but still there. He knew Alan vaguely, he was a friend of Talia’s, and he really didn’t want to stick around for this spell to wear off. Then he and _Chris_ would be asking questions, and making comments, and Peter didn’t want to be kicked out of this café. They always had mint flavoring on hand.

He got up to leave, staring pointedly at the ground when a hand caught him by the shoulder. For a moment, He thought about breaking it, but he could see it was Alan’s. “Wait,” Alan said quietly, his soft voice sounding like he was in the same position Peter was. So he wasn’t the only one this was news to. That didn’t make him feel any better, even though, he assumed, Chris was also in the same boat. “Let’s talk about this.”

Peter could literally think of a thousand things he would rather do than continue standing there looking like an idiot. “No,” he said clearly. “Take your hand off me.”

Alan complied. “Please, just hear me out. I think we might be able to salvage this.” He waved his hand back to the booth. “Sit back down?”

Peter stole a glance at Chris, who was looking at them with mild bewilderment. They met eyes, and Chris deliberately sat down. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I came down here,” he said.

“Really?” he sneered. “Were you going to break things off with him?” 

Chris didn’t rise to the bait.

He turned his attention again to Alan. “What makes you think I’m invested enough to go through all the inevitable drama that this will cause?” 

Alan shrugged. “That’s perfectly fine, I’m not going to stop you,” he said as Chris settled further into the booth.

And damn, he was not going to be outclassed by Chris. He sat next to Alan, crossing his arms over his chest. “So let me see if I got this right: Stiles was upset because he thought we would be upset with him about this situation. And no one knew.” They both nodded.

Peter had no idea why this was so distressing to Stiles, people his age dated all the time. The only reasonable explanation was that he was completely new at being romanced, which had seemed unlikely a few hours ago. But now... “And correct me if I’m wrong, but none of us seem to have a problem with that?”

Chris coughed. “Are you sure, Peter?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not petty enough for this. If Stiles wants to keep you around, that’s his business, and vice versa.” He threaded his fingers together and placed them on the table. “So gentlemen, what are we going to do about this?”

~oOo~

Stiles woke up the next morning thinking that all of the previous day had been an awful nightmare, and that hopeful thought allowed him to drift back off to sleep for a few hours. It wasn’t until he stumbled into the bathroom that the memories began to feel real. He splashed himself with cold water to try and make them go away, but it just made his hair stick to his forehead. 

Scott wasn’t up yet, or he was out with Alice and hadn’t come home at all. Stiles decided ‘fuck it’ and pulled out the emergency ice cream because, damn it, when was there going to be a more appropriate time to use it?

He spent the afternoon on the couch watching cartoons on his laptop. Sometime after he got up to put his dishes in the sink Scott stumbled out of his room, eyes puffy and voice scratchy. 

Stiles shook his head fondly. “Come on, I’ll make you soup and we can avoid our problems together.” They gathered on the couch and put on the first Lord of the Rings movie. He didn’t look at his homework. He even considered not going to work the next day, but he knew he couldn’t afford not to. And he didn’t want to hide in his room like a child. He could do this. He could be mature about a breakup for once in his life. 

~oOo~

When Stiles headed out of the library the next afternoon, he saw Chris standing in the parking lot. He knew without being told that the older man was waiting for him and,and, not wanting to draw attention if Chris decided to retreat, he walked over and greeted Chris with a weak smile. “So how much trouble am I in from this?”

Chris shrugged, pushing himself off of his car smoothly. “That depends on how tonight goes.”

Stiles blanched, flailing a little. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you should trust me. And that you should get in the car.”

Stiles’s first instinct was to say no. That should have been his last thought on the matter, but his feet moved him closer. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“I’m going to take you to the park by your apartment, and then we’re going to go on a walk.” 

Stiles considered this. “I’m going to tell Scott where I’m going, who with, and how long I’ll be gone.” 

Chris nodded. “I suspect that you’ll be out most of the night.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Just me?”

“We’ll see.”

Stiles shook his head. “That sounds very serial killery to me.”

Chris' eyebrows twitched up as his eyes widened, jaw visibly loosening for a second before the older man shook his head and spoke, “No, no, that isn’t what this is at all.” He sighed. “You were so upset and just ran out of there yesterday. I just wanted to show you that it was all right and that I’m not upset with you.”

Stiles studied him for a moment, then got into the car. “You’re just lucky I don’t have any homework tonight.”

Stiles babbled about his day as Chris focused on navigating through the after-school traffic. When they reached the park, the shadows were just starting to crawl along, so it was probably about 3 in the afternoon. Chris insisted on bug spray before leaving the parking lot, which he pulled out of his huge backpack. They walked along some trails, one of which followed the river. Normally, Stiles would have taken off his shoes and waded around, but he didn’t know how far they were walking, and he knew that his socks would inevitably get wet.

“So what are we doing here?” Stiles asked, trying to distract himself from the impulse. 

“I'm taking you to a quiet place,” Chris said simply. When the woods thinned a bit, Chris pulled him off the trail and into a shady clearing near a tributary. The bushes surrounding them flowered a weirdly bright orange, but Stiles was too focused on Chris to try and determine what they were or even notice much about them outside of the fact that they served as a makeshift privacy screen.  
Stiles stared wide eyed as Chris set his backpack down by a tree and started pulling things out: a thin blanket, a pillow, and a tin of cookies, the ones that always seemed to be filled with thread and buttons instead. Stiles sat down once prompted, wondering if he should start pinching his arms or counting his fingers Chris opened the tin, and to Stiles’s surprise, inside was an assortment of fruits: melon, grapes, and strawberries. Stiles leaned back on his elbows waiting to see what was going to happen next. 

Chris stared off into towards the stream for a long moment. “You know,” he said at last. “I never thought I would be in this position again.”

“Which one?”

“Dating in general,” he answered. “I’ve been going through the motions for the past year. I didn’t even think about what we were doing until you kissed me.”

Stiles groaned, hearing his father yelling out about consent in the back of his head. “Oh, fuuuuuuuck.”

“Calm down,” Chris chided. “It’s not like you attacked me, I knew what was going on. I just wasn’t sure you did until then.” He sighed and popped a grape into his mouth. “The point is, I was not expecting what happened this weekend. You running out of there like that, you didn’t give any of us time to react.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said automatically, though his throat felt tight. 

“Don’t be,” Chris replied. He held up the tin in offering. “I enjoy your company. And right now, I don’t see any reason to change what we have going on.” 

Stiles stared for a moment, then shrugged. He pushed the tin out of the way and dove in for a kiss, which was returned enthusiastically.

They pulled themselves away from each other once the sun was starting to cast long shadows and Chris insisted that they had to move. “The park closes at sundown.”

“Boo,” Stiles groaned. but helped pack everything up. He knew from experience that having a car caught behind the barrier was not fun. They walked at a brisk pace, and he grabbed onto Chris’ elbow purely to keep his footing stable. The smile on his face was hard to contain at the realization he’d manged the best outcome of this tomfuckery. If it had to end, at least he got somebody.

When they got to the parking lot, Stiles opened the passenger door while Chris put his backpack away. "Oh no, don't get in," Chris said.

"Huh?"

Chris rounded the car and gently pulled him away. They spun around and he was guided to a silver sedan.

A very familiar silver sedan. And standing outside of it was its very familiar owner. 

"Wait, what?" Stiles asked, trying to backpedal. 

"Relax, Stiles," Chris murmured in his ear, "this is all part of the plan." Alan saw them coming, and didn't look anything but pleased.

"He's all yours," Chris said, letting go of him.

"Wait, hold on," Stiles protested, looking into Alan's face, but in the moment he took to orient himself, Chris was already getting into his car and driving away.

"Holy fucking shit," Stiles breathed, watching his taillights disappear behind the corner. He turned back to Alan, and silently assigned points to the man for not laughing at his expression, because if their roles were reversed, Stiles would be on the floor. "Uh, hi."

At this, Alan did chuckle. "Hello Stiles," he said. He opened the door he was leaning on and stepped out of Stiles's way. "Shall we?" 

Stiles got into the seat and watched Alan circle the car and get in on the driver’s side. "Is this some weird way of you guys fighting over me?" he asked when Alan started up the car. "I mean, I'm flattered but there is no way I am worth all this trouble you guys-"

"Stiles," Alan said, cutting him off. "That's not what this is." He placed his free hand on Stiles’s knee. "You sound very nervous." 

"That is because I am nervous."

The hand squeezed. "I'm sorry," Alan said. "All I had planned was take you over to the diner by the movie theater and buy you dinner. I would understand if you want me to take you home. Which would you prefer?"

Stiles leaned back into the seat and took a deep breath. "Date, please." He peeked out of the corner of his eye to see Alan beaming. 

They pulled into the shopping outlet, and parked in the far back corner by a specialty restaurant called _Butter and Jams_. Inside they were seated in a brightly lit, happy yellow tiled room. When Stiles looked at the menu, he could see that the only thing this place served was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but with extremely fancy ingredients. The lists left him drooling, but the prices… Stiles stared over the laminated menu at Alan, who was already looking at him. Alan gave a shy smile. “I’ve been wanting to try this place for a while,” he said. “I know it’s a little strange.”

“Are you kidding, this is awesome!” Stiles exclaimed. “It just seems a little pricy for a PB&J. Are you sure?”

Alan snorted. “I’m sure, Stiles.” 

The waiter came and took their order. Stiles got a sandwich with Thai spicy peanut butter and bacon, while Alan got something on the sweeter end of the spectrum. Stiles was feeling much better, with the prospect of free dinner and two fewer people that hated him. It was turning into a good day. And, given the unique venue, it gave him a nice excuse to segue into a rant about nutella.

The door buzzer rang just as the waitress was taking away her tip. Stiles didn’t turn to look, he was busy scraping up the last of his jelly. Alan looked up and greeted the person, and Stiles found himself unsurprised to discover it was Peter. “Hey, sorry, we’re running a little late,” Alan said. “We got to talking.”

“Understandable,” Peter agreed. He stepped aside and let Alan stand up. Alan leaned over and gave Stiles a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles’s brain short circuited. “Ummmm.”

Peter gave him an amused look. “Today really has been hard on you, hasn’t it?” Peter asked, sitting in the seat Alan had just vacated. He flagged down the same waitress that had served Stiles dinner. “We’ll take two apple pies, please.”

“Uh, he just paid?” she said. 

Peter held up his card. “Yes, and I am going to pay for this next part.”

She still seemed confused, but accepted the card without another word. Peter rolled his eyes.

Stiles was just going to nod in agreement, but then his mouth opened, and he groaned, laying his head onto the table, completely overwhelmed. “Why are you guys doing this?” Stiles asked. 

Peter didn’t seem surprised by the question. “I’m sorry to say this, sweetheart, but your track record for these things has not been the best,” he said, smirking. “So we got together and came up with this plan to tell you in no unexplicit terms that we all enjoy dating you, and that we are fine with each other.” Stiles was about to protest when Peter continued, “So we are going to sit here and order dessert. Then, when it’s over, I’m going to take you to a nice movie that I know you’ve been wanting to go see.”

“I haven’t talked to you about actual movies,” Stiles accused. 

“You talked to Alan about them,” Peter said. “See, we communicate. Like adults.”

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair. “So, like, what are the rules for this?” he asked. When Peter shrugged, he groaned. “Come on, there has to be rules. There has to be something.”

“I’d imagine that would be up to you,” Peter replied.

“So I can talk about what I do with them to you?” Stiles prodded. “I can show you guys pictures and gush and look dewy-eyed off into the distance?”

Peter made a face. “Do you want to do that?”

“Not really, but what if I did?”

Peter considered this. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring up Chris often. Alan is fine, I actually don’t know him that well.” Stiles bit his lip to keep quiet until the other man sighed and continued. “I dated Chris when I was in high school--”

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “So you can understand why I would not want to see him happy.”

Stiles was silent for a moment, fear twisting his gut yet again. “It doesn’t sound like this is going to work.” 

“This is going to sound cliche,” Peter started, “but you don’t break up with people because things might go wrong. You break up with them when things actually go wrong. Especially when you are in a situation like this. You’re young, you’ll figure it out.”

The waitress came back with their order and the card. Peter exchanged it for a fifty dollar bill, quickly going from strange man to the woman’s favorite customer. Stiles tore into the pie like a beast. He hadn’t had pie since the 4th of July. “Slow down, you want to enjoy it,” Peter said, smirking. 

“You said we’ve got a movie to catch,” he retorted. 

“There are at least fifteen minutes of commercials. We will be fine.” 

Stiles gave him a gaping look. “The _trailers_ are the best part!” 

Peter just rolled his eyes.

They got to the theater with ten minutes to spare, entering midway through the pre-trailer trivia show. As he and Peter walked up the steps, he glanced at the middle seats -- the best seats, in his not-so-humble opinion -- and saw that they were occupied. He turned to sit in the row in front of them, but stopped when Peter grabbed his arm. “Up here, Precious,” Peter said, guiding him up to the occupied row. Now that he was paying attention, he could see that the couple was Alan and Chris. 

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He waved pleasantly. “Hey guys.” He looked at Chris and Alan, both watching with slight smiles and kind eyes. It seemed like a very stupid idea to argue against anything these guys were willing to give, especially after his embarrassing display in the cafe. He was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If they were all okay with this arrangement, he could be, too.

He focused on the movie, which wasn’t hard. He talked through the actiony parts and didn’t feel bad about it. Peter looked amused, and he could hear Alan making similar commentary next to him. Chris seemed to be analysing the film like a financial report and mumbled to himself occasionally. Not a passive movie watcher, or maybe he just got annoyed when people had unrealistic guns. He liked studying the men’s reactions, but by the time the climax arrived he was entirely invested and tuned everything else out. 

He was terrified when the lights came up, and he realized he had to do something. Because there were three people sitting here, that wanted to _kiss_ him. What was he supposed to do now? They all seemed to be waiting on him. He stood up and stretched while he thought of something clever to say. He had something on the tip of his tongue, but it flew away when he saw all their eyes on him. He was living the dream, and he didn’t know when it was going to start feeling real, but right now he was going to ride this high until it felt like his life again, whether that be by stability or tragedy. 

There was only one last question to ask.

“So,” he started, “who’s taking me back to my car?”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me over at gemstonewriter803.tumbr.com


End file.
